


Summer Days

by bittenfeld



Category: CHiPs
Genre: M/M, Male Slash, Police Procedural, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-24
Updated: 2015-05-24
Packaged: 2018-04-01 02:02:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4001701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bittenfeld/pseuds/bittenfeld
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(just a tiny half-page unfinished bit).  Out on patrol, Frank can’t keep his mind off his blond sexy partner.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Summer Days

Baker was taking longer than usual, Frank noted, as his gaze rested on the grimy white door of the gas-station john. Restlessly he gunned the Kawasaki. _C’mon, partner, let’s boogie!_ his mind coaxed impatiently. Two days out of the hospital, and he wanted to hit the road again – no wasting time, no ‘light-duty’ job behind a desk – just the open road, the fresh air (all right, fresh smog), a buddy by his side, and the rumbling machine between his legs.

He squeezed his thighs and knees tighter to the cycle. There was something erotic about the feel of vibrating steel beneath his groin. In fact, some days when he was particularly horny, he found it almost impossible to keep his mind off his crotch and concentrate on his job.

But today it just felt so good to be alive, that he could even think about something other than sex.

The first day of summer – well, maybe not by the calendar, but definitely by the weather. After the morning marine layer had dissipated, the heat had really begun to set in. The cloth of his uniform shirt rested hot on his shoulders. The constriction of the Kevlar vest beneath his clothes was almost unbearable, but the thing had saved his life two weeks ago, so he’d never complain about it again.

Across the gas-station lot, the restroom door opened, and Jon emerged, pulling on his gloves. As he strolled toward the two motors, he squinted up into the morning sky and adjusted the sunglas­ses on his nose.

“What were you doing in there, Baker – taking a bath?” Poncherello complained as his part­ner approached.

“Hey,” Jon insisted, mounting his cycle. “When you gotta go, you gotta go.” He slipped his helmet back on and fastened the chin strap.

“Yeah, well, just don’t let it happen again.”

Jon grinned. “Well, at least not for another couple hours.”

. . . . .

 _to be continued_ … _someday_ …


End file.
